


Let Me Take You Far Away (you’d like a holiday)

by deychwan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, New Years, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deychwan/pseuds/deychwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas spend the whole week going through holidays and human traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Take You Far Away (you’d like a holiday)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SameDestination](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SameDestination/gifts).



> A gift for Lauren. I love you a lot <3.

It’s been a week since Cas came back from Purgatory, and already a few have passed since Dean got his feet back on Earth. It’s… strange, to be here again. Dean had forgotten what it felt like to spend the nights in dirty motels, watching cartoons at two in the morning or eating burgers even when you’re not even that hungry at all.

They’re in the middle of October when Cas gets out of Purgatory. Dean tries his hardest to avoid thinking about how it happened; he knows the answer to that question is probably one he won’t like. According to Benny, only humans can get out of Purgatory, and yet here Castiel is. Dean avoids thinking about it and focuses instead on anything else as he falls asleep, wearing nothing but boxers since it’s not that cold. But somehow, when he wakes up the next day, _it’s really cold,_ and Dean doesn’t want to get out of bed. Eventually he knows he has to, so he wraps the blankets around him and roots around in his bag until he finds a hoodie (that is probably Sam’s). After putting it on, he looks around the room, frowning and beginning to think that this is a dream. Because this isn’t the motel room he was sleeping in last night. That one had had pink walls with flowers all over all over them which had made Sam snort and two beds, but this one is blue with a king bed and no Sammy around. Instincts kick in and Dean searches through his bag for his gun, panic beginning to set it when he can’t find any guns.

There’s a noise of something banging. Not in this same room though, it seems to be coming from downstairs. Dean lets out a sigh of relief when he tries to open the door and it gives, opening to the rest of what seems to be a fairly normal house, the smell of food filling in his nostrils. Dean follows the scent, which, indeed, leads him downstairs. And okay, this has to be some sort of weird dream because—really?

Cas is kneeling in front of what seems to be an oven, staring right into it. He could burn a hole throug it with the way his eyes are fixed on whatever he’s cooking. And the weirdest thing is that Cas isn’t wearing his trench coat. Instead, he has on an apron over his button-down and slacks. _W_ _hat the fuck is wrong with Dean Winchester’s life_ _?_

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean asks. Cas turns to face him with a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes briefly flick over Dean’s legs and, okay, maybe he should’ve pulled on some pants too. Cas doesn’t seem to mind though, because he’s still smiling.

Cas gets on his feet. “Hello, Dean. As you can see, I’m cooking; well, _trying to._ This is something completely new to me.”

“Wait, you’re… cooking?” Dean raises an eyebrow. Why would one of the oldest and most powerful things on Earth be cooking?

Cas chuckles, apparently finding humor in the question. “Yes, Dean. I believe it’s a tradition to eat turkey on Thanksgiving Day.”

What? “ _Wha_ _t_?” Dean asks, confused. It’s not Thanksgiving Day. For God’s sake, it’s barely mid-October.

“The table is ready, and the turkey will be ready in a few minutes. You should go sit down, I’ll join you once the turkey is ready.”

Dean doesn’t bother saying no, as he’s pretty sure this is a dream. _A really_ vivid and weird one, because it doesn’t feel like a dream at all. He finds the table, as Cas said, set for two. It’s not that big, two chairs set up across from each other, two bottles of beer next to each empty plate (Dean has to grab one and empty half of it). When was the last time he celebrated Thanksgiving Day this way? Probably when Mom was around and Dean was three. Either way, he doesn’t remember their last Thanksgiving.

While Dean waits for Cas, he tries to get an idea of the house he’s sitting in. The table he’s sitting at is in the living room, along with a couch and TV, and pictures of what seem to be Dean and Sammy as children. Dean’s sitting when Cas comes back a few minutes later, carrying a huge plate with the turkey Cas, as he said, has been trying to cook. The sound of the plate being placed in the middle of the table makes Dean come back to the real world.

Cas isn’t wearing the apron anymore, but the trench coat isn’t back.

Cas is serving Dean some of the turkey, which considering it was cooked by Angel of the Lord _‘I don’t understand that reference’_ Castiel, doesn’t smell that bad and actually looks pretty decent.

“Where are we?” Dean asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t get an answer to that, just a sigh from Cas as he sits in front of him. “Please, Dean. Eat. I burnt four turkeys before I got the hang of it, so I would like you to taste the meal before it gets cold.” Dean nods, rubbing his palms on his thighs. Hearing the word ‘cold’ made him remember how he’s still not wearing pants. Dean hopes Cas still doesn’t mind about him not wearing any pants.

Dean’s glad Cas doesn’t follow all of the traditions of Thanksgiving Day, like saying grace. He guesses he’s not the only one at the table who doesn’t trust that stuff anymore. In turns out that the turkey is pretty good. It’s not _awesome,_ but considering it’s Castiel’s first it’s really good. They eat sharing a comfortable silence, filled with the clatter of cutlery against the dishes. Dean asks Cas if he can have a second helping, and Cas nods with a smile. Cas has been eating but, unsurprisingly, not as much as Dean, who could eat all the turkey by himself.

The silence is soon interrupted by Cas. “Dean. I believe it’s tradition to say what we are grateful for,” Cas says, putting his cutlery down.

Cas clears his throat, as if he’s going to begin, when Dean stops him. “Woah, man, hold on. Cas, I’m sorry, I know you seem pretty… excited about this whole,” Dean waves his hand around, “thing, but it’s not Thanksgiving yet.”

By the way Cas sighs, Dean can tell he’s wrong (or _something’_ _s_ wrong). “Dean, it’s November 28 th, Thanksgiving Day. So, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to start.” And again, he clears his throat, which Dean really shouldn’t find so adorable. “I give thanks to whoever brought me back, all of those times, even when you never answer to my questions or prayers. I’m grateful for the body I own, that lets me walk among humans, and for that I thank Jimmy Novak. I’m grateful that I have friends like the Winchesters, and that even when, maybe, I don’t deserve it, they still let me keep around them. And I’m grateful that I have Dean Winchester in my life and that he’s sharing this meal with me.” Cas stops, and his eyes, that were fixed on his empty plate, finally meet Dean’s. Who swallows, nervous and _shit why is he blushing?_ “I believe it’s your turn, Dean.”

“I…” Dean’s voice sounds rough. Cas just left him speechless. “I-I’m grateful I have you, too, man.” Maybe that was the right thing to say, because Dean’s never seen Cas smile like that. “But, Cas, listen, you gotta tell me what’s going on because—“

“Happy Thanksgiving Day, Dean.”

And before everything turns black, Dean notices how suddenly he has his pants on.

 

 

Dean wakes up in his motel bed. _Finally_ _._ This time, it’s colder than before, but at least he’s wearing more clothes. He runs a hand through his hair, thinking about last night’s dream. He hasn’t had a dream that strange since forever _._ His next thought is how it shouldn’t be that cold, because, _hello! It’s October_ _,_ but when Dean glances at his reflection in the mirror, he yelps.

Dean’s wearing the ugliest Christmas’ sweater he’s ever seen. It’s green, and has a big Santa in the middle with snow all over it. Dean Winchester doesn’t do _sweaters._ He’s already hating this dream.

When he takes a look at their motel room, Dean again finds it slightly changed. There are all kinds of Christmas ornaments around and Christmas tree next to his bed with a fucking big, chubby angel sitting on the top.

Did Sam plan all of this?

“No, it was me.”

Castiel appears right in front of him all of a sudden, startling Dean, making him take a hurried step backwards. The angel is wearing an even uglier sweater than Dean, but he looks kind of adorable in it, a thought Dean immediately represses, because you _don’_ _t_ think that way about your best friend.

“What are we doing here, Cas? Why does the room looks like—dude, it’s fucking October. Did you know we celebrate Christmas in December?”

“I am aware of your traditions, Dean. That’s why we’re celebrating Christmas _on December 25_ _th_ _.”_ Cas pushes some papers into Dean’s hands and walks away. Dean takes a look at what happens to be a newspaper. _December 25_ _th_ _, 2013_ it says on the front page.

Dean turns to Cas, who’s sitting next to the tree, glancing at something he has in his hands. “Cas, you—I don’t know what’s going on. Because, yesterday I woke up, and it was Thanksgiving, and now it’s Christmas and—“

“Dean, I got a Christmas present for you. Do you want to open it?”

Dean frowns. _But it’s not Christmas_ _,_ he wants to say, but the newspaper said otherwise and Cas seems kind of excited about this whole presents thing. So Dean shrugs, walks towards Cas and sits down in front of him. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I don’t mind. I’m just happy as long as you’re here.” Castiel leaves Dean speechless so easily, _always_ _._

Cas isn’t looking at Dean when he pushes his gift into Dean’s hands. It’s wrapped with what seems to be pages of some car magazine, and Dean can see that Cas seems to be just as bad at wrapping gifts as he is himself. Dean doesn’t mind, it just makes him realize how endearing this thing really is.

Slowly, Dean tears the paper away, aware that Cas’ eyes are on his hands now. It makes him slightly nervous so he goes faster.

Dean blinks as he holds the present in his hands. “Are these… socks?” Hey, at least these ones don’t have holes, Dean notices.

“Yes. Sam told me you’d get him socks on Christmas, so I thought it’d be a suitable pres—Dean, why are you laughing?”

Dean wipes at his eyes, shaking with laughter. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t… sorry, I didn’t expect this. But, thank you, I needed new socks. Dude,” Dean sets his hand on top of Cas’ shoulder, squeezing it. “Don’t ever change.” It’s not the first time he says that, right?

Castiel smiles one of his almost imperceptible smiles. “I won’t, Dean.” Neither of them says anything for a few seconds, and for the first time since he woke up Dean doesn’t think about how weird this whole thing is. “I bought breakfast. Do you want some, Dean?” Dean nods, and lets Cas lead the way to the small table set in their motel room. But Cas stops short, making Dean slam against his back. “Cas?” Dean groans, stepping back.

Noticing Cas looking up, Dean follows his gaze. There’s mistletoe hanging above them. Did Cas do that on purpose or— When Dean looks back at Cas, he’s staring right at him. And Cas has been talking about traditions so much lately—the turkey, the ‘being grateful for’, the presents… so Dean guesses this is what Cas wants, right? And maybe Dean does want it too, because Cas is _right there_ and all he can do is look at him and notice the way Cas’ eyes are flickering from his eyes to his lips. Dean can’t help leaning forward, closing his eyes, and there’s barely a brush of lips against lips, but it’s not enough because then Cas’ voice is saying, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And again, darkness.

 

 

Dean doesn’t wake up this time, because he’s not in bed. He’s standing in the middle of what seems to be a bar, decorated with posters of ‘Happy New Year!’, ‘We survived another year!’ and ‘Welcome, 2014.’ The music is too loud (he recognizes it as one of the classic rock bands he likes—Styx; thankfully they aren’t playing any of those Lady Gaga or Ke$ha songs), the place is crowded and everybody is holding drinks. People’re talking and laughing and hugging. He sees some couples making out while the single people flirt with each other, trying not to start the New Year alone. And it shouldn’t be New Year’s Eve because yesterday was Christmas and the day before that was Thanksgiving. ~~.~~ Dean tries to look for someone—for Cas. This has to be Cas again, and Dean’s starting to get an idea about what might be going on.

Dean frowns when he notices he has a freaking leis necklace around his neck, but he doesn’t have time to take it off because Cas is walking towards him, trench coat lost somewhere else, a blue leis necklace around his neck similar to Dean’s green one. “Cas, dude, you gotta—“ Dean begins, but there’s too much noise and too many people around, so Cas has to lean in closer to hear Dean.

“What were you saying, Dean?” Cas asks, almost right into his ear. Dean slightly pulls away so he can fix his eyes on Castiel’s.

“Cas, man, this whole thing you got going on—“

_Ten_ _!_

_Shit, not now, not right_ now _._

“I don’t understand why you’re doing it.”

_Nine_ _!_

“But I think I know what’s going on.”

_Eight_ _!_

“All of this, the parties, the holidays or whatever.”

_Seven_ _!_

“They’re not dreams.”

_Six_ _!_

“And you gotta talk to me, man.”

_Five_ _!_

“Because this is freaking me out.”

_Four_ _!_

“Is this ever going to end?”

_Three_  

“Cas, c’mon man, say something.”

_Two_ _!_

There’s no answer, but Cas is getting even closer, and then he’s kissing him, but it’s as short and quick as it was the time before.

“Happy New Year, Dean.”

_No, man, don’t put me to sleep again, talk to me_ _—_

Too late.

 

 

Dean wakes up with the worst headache ever and Cas holding up a glass of orange juice for him. Dean takes it and gulps it down, while Cas stares at him with a frown.

“Why do I feel like this?”

“You spent the whole night drinking. I think you call it a ‘hangover.”

“I can’t remember anything.”

“Do you remember _somethin_ _g_?”

Dean remembers Cas with his blue leis necklace. Cas standing in front of Dean, Dean talking to Cas, Cas not answering any of his questions. And the kiss. “Yeah,” he replies, too low to be heard.

There’s an uncomfortable silence in which Cas takes the glass from Dean’s hand and places it on a night stand. Next thing Dean knows, his eyes are closed, his arms wrapped around Cas’ neck and Cas is holding him close as their lips meet. It’s wet and desperate and possessive, with both of them clinging onto each other, until Cas has Dean pinned down against the bed and Cas’ lips are everywhere at once. Cas is kissing him too long, so long that he has to pull on Cas’ hair every now and then so he can _fucking breathe,_ because Cas might be a freaking angel but Dean still needs oxygen.

So they kiss, and kiss, until kisses are not enough, and then hands begin to take part in their game. First there were tentative touches from Cas’ hands, on Dean’s shoulders and arms and stomach. Then it was Dean lifting his hips, and Cas slipping his hand under Dean’s shirt until their hands were groping everywhere and clothes were quickly shed, falling to the floor beside the bed.

_Cas, Cas—Castiel_ _._

_Dean_ _._

Hands touching skin, mouths kissing, licking, and nipping and letting out tiny sounds. The two pant and moan their partner’s name, filling the silence of the room.

Cas’ hands on Dean are careful and gentle at first until Dean starts asking for more, telling Cas what and how he wants it. _Harder,_ at first, when Cas is being too gentle. Cas is going too slow, so then it’s _faster._ And _like this,_ and _fuck yes Cas,_ and then _don’t stop, please, yes Cas, Cascascas_ _—_

Cas pulls away just when Dean’s about to come, leaving him groaning and cursing and _fuck Cas, you bastard_ _._

But that’s when it gets better, because there’s a wet finger tentatively pressing against his entrance. When Dean looks up, Cas eyes are fixed on him. They’re dark and _blue,_ and Cas’ lips are swollen and wet, and Dean wonders if that’s because Cas won’t stop from licking them as he looks at him or because of how much they’ve kissed.

Dean’s nod of approval makes Cas press that finger deeper inside him as Dean spreads his legs wider.

Soon Cas’ finger turns into two soon, and no much later there are three fingers twisting and circling inside him, Dean moaning and begging for _please more, Cas, c’mon, c’mon you bastard, stop teasing me, just do it_ _._

And Cas does it while he whispers right into Dean’s ear how good he feels and how tight he is, Dean just telling him to _fucking shut up_ and start moving. Cas complies, and soon he’s thrusting into Dean; fast and hard and _more, more, don’t stop, Cas, so good,_ as they kiss and look into each other’s eyes, Dean telling Cas how good it is and how he doesn’t want Cas to stop, although he knows he can’t get that one. Soon Cas’ thrusts become erratic and Dean wraps a hand around himself and moans even louder Cas’ name.

Dean notices how they didn’t use a condom when Cas comes inside him, but it’s too late for that (and he doesn’t mind how it feels anyway).

Cas falls right on top of Dean’s sweaty body, his come sticky inbetween their bodies. Dean knows he should complain about that but he’s too tired. Maybe he said that out loud, because Cas answers; “me too.”

“Hey, at least I don’t have a headache anymore.”

A moment passes and then they both burst out laughing, Cas looking adorable while doing so (luckily Dean didn’t say _that_ out loud), and once they’re not tired anymore, they go for round two.

They have the entire day for themselves, so they decide to stay like that all day, curled up together.

"Cas.” Cas, head resting on Dean’s chest, looks up. “Happy New Year’s day.” Yeah, this is a good way to start the year.

 

 

There’s a huge apple pie waiting for Dean on their table, with _thou_ _sands_ of candles.

_“I don’t even know how old I am, so you better_ _counted the candles right_ _._ _”_

_“Dean, this year you are thirty—_ _“_

_“No man. I mean it when I say I don’t wanna know it. I’m too old._ _”_

_“You’re not as old as I am._ _”_

_“Wow, you’re a pervert, taking ad_ _vantage of someone as young as me—hey, okay, okay! It was a joke!_ _”_

Both of them are sitting at the table, Dean’s eyes fixed on the apple pie.

“So… aren’t you going to sing?” Dean asks.

“What? Why should I sing?”

“Dude, it’s like… tradition, or, whatever. You’re supposed to sing me ‘happy birthday’, and then I’ll blow out the candles.”

“Oh. I… I don’t know that song. Could you teach it to me?”

Dean laughs. “Whatever, we can do it our way.”

And that’s when Dean blows out the candles on his birthday cake—apple pie, and then they eat it, Dean teasing and feeding Cas his piece every now and then.

Later, as they're doing the dishes, Cas tells Dean he forgot to get him something. “But I got something else for you,” he says, and tries to grin. Dean thinks Cas looks really creepy like that, so it just makes him laugh.

“Oh, really?” Dean hooks his arms around Cas’ waist, smirking. “That was a really lame joke, Cas. But at least you tried.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Dean. And my present involves getting naked. You’re overdressed,.”

Dean didn’t know sex with Cas could be _tha_ _t_ fun.

 

 

Dean fell asleep with Cas’ arms around him, but when he wakes up Cas isn’t there. But there’s music coming from _somewhere._ Dean gets out of bed and finds out he’s in the same house he was all those days ago, back when they celebrated Thanksgiving. Only now there’s a trail of roses that leads him downstairs. He frowns in confusion, but follows the petals and scent hat takes him to the living room. Cas is sitting on the couch, reading a book, with some rock ballad playing quietly in the background. Dean’s too busy staring at Cas to recognize that song.

“Is it… Valentine’s day?” Dean asks, uncertainly. Cas’ smile lets him know his guess was right.

“Yes. I know you’ve never celebrated it—“

“Dude, yes, I have. Thousands of times.”

A sigh. “Dean, picking up random single women from bars on Valentine’s day by telling them you don’t want to _spend such a beautiful day alone,_ doesn’t count.” And though Dean wonders how Cas knows that, it makes him smile.

“Are we gonna have sex to celebrate again?”

Dean receives a snort in answer. “Maybe. First I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?”

At first, Dean hesitates. He shakes his head, blushing.

But Cas might be spending too much time with Sam lately, because he’s giving Dean those puppy eyes he can never say no to. He hates those. “Okay, okay—fine. We can dance. But I’m not a good dancer.”

“Neither am I.”

Turns out it’s true, both of them suck at dancing. A few minutes later Dean trips on Cas’ feet and knocking the both of them down on the floor. Dean takes advantage of his position and kisses Cas’ lips. Cas kisses back, and they kiss some more, and they don’t even think about moving it to the bedroom or the couch because they’re already ripping each other’s clothes off.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Dean says before sucking a bruise on Cas’ hips.

 

 

On the seventh day of their week of holidays Dean wakes up wondering what today could be. What’s the next thing Cas wants to celebrate? Maybe he has a birthday, too? Or Cas’d like to spend Easter with Dean, or maybe he’s into Mexican’s traditions, and he’ll take Dean to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.

There’s none of that.

Because someone is shaking him too roughly, making Dean groan, “fuck, Sammy, stop, ‘s too early!”

_Sam_ _._

Sam is back—or rather, Dean is back, and Cas is nowhere to be seen.

It seems like Dean never left, because Sammy doesn’t ask Dean anything like ‘where were you, man, I’ve been looking for you’. So maybe it was a dream.

He prays to Castiel, but he doesn’t show up.

 

Dean spends the whole day worrying about Cas. The past six days Cas has been right there with him, and now he’s gone. Maybe it was a dream, after all. A really vivid dream, because Dean can remember the way Cas’ lips felt against his own. How warm Cas’ hands were when Cas ran them all over Dean’s body. How it felt when they fuc—okay, maybe it’s not a good moment to remember that part, since he and Sam are following a lead that might take them to Crowley.

“Dean! What the hell, man, are you _here_ or not? I’ve had to save your ass like five times today!” Sam shouts, right after stabbing a demon.

Dean takes a look around. All the demons are already dead, lying on the floor. Of course, it was another trap.

“Y-yeah, okay. I’m sorry—“

“Yeah, being sorry isn’t going to stop those demons from trying to kill you next time.”

“I’ve said _okay,_ Sam!” Dean snaps, and it’s enough to finally shut Sam up. He sighs, relieved. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go take a shower and then we’ll get something to eat.”

They do.

 

That night, when Sam is sleeping, Dean takes his car and drives. Drives, not paying attention to how far he’s gone, until he finds a bar that seems decent _,_ filled with men that are just trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beers.

Dean orders a whiskey fromthe bartender, and a few minutes later he’s asking for a refill. He doesn’t notice the man in a trench coat sitting next to him.

“Dean.”

“Where the hell were you?” Dean asks as he spins around to face Cas. Cas, who looks like he always does _,_ his serious face and suit and trench coat. Dean looks away and, _is he blushing_ _?_

“I’m sorry, Dean. Time travel tires me. I guess you’d say I had to, um, recharge my batteries.”

Cas even does the finger quotes. Dean snorts. “So, time traveling, huh. It wasn’t a dream then.”

“No. But you already knew that, Dean.” Cas states, and it’s true.

“I still don’t know why you did it.”

Cas shifts, uncomfortable, on the stool, as if he was trying to find the right position. Or he just doesn’t like the conversation, or—he’s blushing again. “We spent this last year in Purgatory. You didn’t get to be here on Earth for any of those holidays.” Dean frowns, and is about to say something, when Cas continues. “I know you never celebrate Christmas. Or your birthday, or—any of them. But humans celebrate on those days. They like to make new memories, have a good time with their family, friends and loved ones. This last year in Purgatory was a rough one. I wanted you to remember it for this, instead of what happened there.”

Dean’s staring at his, now empty, glass of whiskey, by the time Cas finishes his speech. Cas took all of his time to try to make it better for Dean, _and it wasn’t a dream_ _._

Holidays always used to be the same for Dean, since Mom died. _‘Take care of your brother, Dean, there’s a_ _hunt a few miles away from here’_ when Dad was still there.

_‘Dean, why can’t we have turkey like the other kids do?_ _’_

_‘Sammy, we just can’t._ _’_

_‘But—_ _‘_

_‘Please, Sammy, just shut up and eat your cereal, okay_ _?_

And then Sammy was an adult, he left Dean alone with Dad and Dean was reminded on every holiday that Sammy wasn’t there with them, and Dean didn’t have anybody he could spend the night with so he just drank until he passed out. It had been like that until Sam came back, but both of them were too broken to pretend to be normal or happy. They spent Halloween trying to guess who was dressed as vampire and who was a real one, Christmas hunting crazy Santas, and birthdays eating cheap burgers.

It’s never been perfect for Dean.

“I think now you should kiss me now.”

Dean chuckles. “Why, because it’s a tradition too?”

“No. Just because I’d like you to.”

Dean laughs, wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulders and, after paying the bartender he leads them both out to his car.

“Where are we going now, Dean?”

“I don’t know. To celebrate something. Maybe we should make up our own traditions?”

“Do they involve nakedness?”

“Maybe.”

For the new memories.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you [to ](http://whatwillsurviveofusis-love.tumblr.com/%20%20)[my](http://screw-destiny-in-the-face.tumblr.com/%20%20) [wonderful ](http://danathelaugh.tumblr.com/%20%20)[betas.](http://ssamandiriel.tumblr.com/%20%20)
> 
> Something I wanted to address. I think it hasn’t been mentioned on seasons six, seven and eight, but, since Dean spent a whole year with Lisa, while Sam was soulless, and; Sam spent a year on his own while Dean was in Purgatory, I think that'd mean Purgatory happened between 2013 and 2014?
> 
> This was a present for Lauren, hope you liked it :). I got this idea while thinking about how, on our RP, Dean and Cas spent a whole year apart. Somehow, this happened. It's also the first time I write a fanfic, so... oops? Be nice to me!


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